Not to sound arrogant, but sometimes I am really glad at my openness and understanding of others. I feel that I am capable of putting myself in other people's shoes and empathizing with their situation. I feel like I am open to people's opinions and beliefs, able to listen without judgement, and without compromising my own beliefs.

Well, the latter has, as it comes to my awareness, become a little murky. Most of the time, I see this capability a gift -- most of the time. Other times it feels like a curse. My openness has indeed helped me understand others, but in doing so, there are times when my compassion has overwhelmed my reasoning. Thus, it has affected me in a negative manner.

One obvious example is my family. The way that they are, the way that they have raised me and treated me, and continue to treat me, reason tells me that I should leave. I should just turn away and very rarely look back. Their utter selfishness and close-mindedness hurts me more often than I can even comprehend. They use me, try to control me, push me down, smother me, and at the end of the day, not apologize, regardless of whether they understand that they've hurt me or not. Logic tells me to run far, far away.

But my compassion hinders this. Despite everything, they are still my family. And I understand that they need me. So I stay, hoping against hope that in some way, I am helping them.

Logic tells me that I cannot change the way they are. They are far too old, and those that aren't, have those objectionable beliefs embedded in their heads by those that are.

Yet, I stay because I feel sorry for them. Does that mean that I have, in some ways, inherited some of their objectionable beliefs? Staying despite getting hurt is one of their ridiculous beliefs. Or does it mean that I am more compassionate than they are?

This is where it gets murky, as I mentioned.

There is a fine line between compassion and stupidity. I know. I walk the path everyday, some days bordering one side more than the other.

But when do I leave? Because I will leave here someday. When one dies? When I've reached my goals? Tomorrow? Today? Never?

No. Not never.

I don't know.

So I sit here, working and hurting and healing (rinse. repeat.), until my flesh wears down to my bone, until death knocks on my door, struggling to love despite being shoved away.